


All is Takes is One

by RogueWolf



Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst, Comforting Michael, Depression, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Hurt James, James Ironwood needs a hug, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 21:11:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6025069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueWolf/pseuds/RogueWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is a General of the Atlesian army, the headmaster of Atlas Academy, and one of the most powerful men in the kingdom. He is unbreakable, the people say, he is the strength of their kingdom made real. But underneath that, there is a man, who is bitterly lost, broken, and ready to give into despair. All it takes is one person offering a hand, but when the whole world thinks you're unbreakable, you have to help yourself. The only problem is, that's hard to do, when you don't even know how.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All is Takes is One

There were some days when James woke up, bleary-eyed and sore, and he’d realize that today was going to be one of  _ those _ days. If he was lucky, he’d be able to roll out of bed and carry on with his duties, though his performance would be lackluster at best. If he wasn’t lucky, well...that’s what he had reliable lieutenants. He never worried about telling them that he’d be unavailable all day, and not to bother him except in cases of emergencies. He trusted that the world would still be in order the next day; so far, his trust had been well-founded.

And on those days, he’d stay in bed, uncaring that he was still in pajamas or that he’d forgotten to put deodorant on. On those days, he pulled his blankets over his head and tried to breathe while his muscles and skin and bones screamed at him. If he were lucky, that was it.

But sometimes he couldn’t hide under the blankets; it was too close, too hot, too everything. It was too much like the day he had lost his body but gained a country. 

On those days, he’d force himself to the gym and demolish everything he could. Or he’d run through hundreds of boxes of bullets at the range. Anything to keep him mind blank. Sometimes it worked, sometimes he felt normal again.

And then he would realize that it’s been an entire day and he hasn’t eaten, that he’s exhausted - even if all he’d done was nothing more that stay in bed - and he’d have to find food, only for his stomach to refuse to keep it all done.

And then when he’s exhausted all his options, when he’s curled amongst his pillows and sheets, he’d remember, and he’d try to ignore the tears burning in his eyes.

* * *

He hadn’t had an incident in almost four months; it was the longest he’d ever managed to go without one, and he had allowed himself the foolish hope that he was getting better. He was almost normal again. 

James should have known better.

He woke with a start, the edges of the nightmare graying his vision. He shook his head and rubbed at his eyes. It wasn’t unheard of for him to have nightmares, but it wasn’t unusual either. He refused to stay in bed, annoyed at the way his skin was clammy with sweat, but still too tired to do anything about it, before going to huddle on the couch. His scroll flashed: 2:25AM, and James resigned himself to another sleepless night. 

He flipped on the lights and wandered out to the kitchenette and scrounged for a water bottle in the fridge. He found one, misshapen and bent in half, and he stubbornly refused to draw any kind of comparisons between them. He pressed it against his face, the coldness making him hiss in a breath, but it was a welcome burn. He trudged to the living room and let himself collapse onto his couch.

The throw blanket sat next to him and James eyed it carefully. He was cold, cold enough that he’d welcome the warmth the blanket would provide, but the nightmare was still fresh in his mind; with a shudder, he grabbed the blanket and tossed it out of sight. It wasn’t the first time he’d suffered through the cold, and it wouldn’t be the last.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, hunched over, fingers clenched around the water bottle, but it was long enough for his muscles to go stiff.

The knock, when it came, startled him out of his reverie. He placed the bottle gently on the table and snagged a jacket from the hall closet. He tugged it on, glancing uneasily at his metal hand. He felt oddly naked without his glove, but it seemed ridiculous to go put one on now. 

With one last glance, he opened the door and almost slammed it shut.

“What are you doing here, Qrow?” he hated how weary he sounded, and he straightened his shoulders, trying to look more awake.

“I was in the neighborhood,” Qrow said from his spot against the doorframe, “and a…” he grinned, “little birdie told me your lights were on Figured it wouldn’t hurt to check in now, save me from having to head over to the academy in the morning.”

“I...this is highly irregular,” James said. “I didn’t know that you knew where I lived.”

“Heh, irregular for you, maybe. Perfectly normal for me.” Qrow peered up at James. “So, are you going to invite me in? Or do I get the dubious honour of reporting in from a hallway?”

James stepped aside reluctantly. “Come in,” h told Qrow. And Qrow strolled in, as casually as though he visited James’ apartment all the time. 

“Nice place. Fancier than I expected, for an Atlesian general.”

And James couldn’t argue. Atlast was well known for taking what was already there and making it better, more effective. Fashions and styles were driven by what worked, not by what the latest trend was. Their military exemplified this: uniforms were done in simple whites, grays, and blacks. Their living quarters were often sparse, just the bare necessities and nothing else. 

James didn’t ascribe to that belief. Sure, he’d wear the uniform, he’d lecture about not allowing one’s self to be distracted by ‘the frivolities of life’ while in battle, and he would stoically agree that such a training environment built character.

But at home, he indulged in colours: rich reds, deep greens, twilight purples. Staid, by non-Atlesian standards, but absolutely gaudy when seen by most of his fellow military peers. He grinned, remembering the creation of Team FNKI. The reception to the team name had been...icy. The realization that the team itself was composed of one colourful individual after another had almost caused an uproar. It had been, James thought with a smirk, one of the most enjoyable commencement ceremonies in a long time.

“I may be a general,” James told Qrow, walking past him and into the kitchen, “but I am much more than just that.”

_ Like a half-functioning robot _ , his mind supplied, and James sucked in a deep breath. Today was definitely going to be one of  _ those _ days. 

“Yeah,” Qrow agreed from behind him, “I can see that.”

James poured himself a glass of water, refusing to look at Qrow. _Why was he here?It couldn’t be for a report, not Qrow._ He froze, his mind replaying Qrow’s words. _“I can see that.”_ _What could he see? Did he see what was wrong with him?_ He’d have to be careful, James couldn’t risk Qrow seeing anything else and telling Ozpin and Glynda. He couldn’t risk being kicked out, cast aside before he even had a chance to help. He couldn’t-

The glass shattered, and James stared in surprise as the shards fell to clink against the counter. 

“What the hell? James? Are you ok?” Qrow was at his side, tugging at his arm,  _ his metal arm, _ and James pulled away. 

“I’m fine,” he said stiffly. “It was my metal hand.” He felt it clenching and unclenching, and he stuffed it into his pocket before he managed to break something else. 

“That’s a load of crap,” Qrow snapped. “You wouldn’t break a glass for no reason. What’s going on?”

“I said I was fine,” James thundered, and Qrow fell back, his eyes narrowed. “I don’t need you coming in here and questions my actions, Qrow. It’s out of line.” He glared at Qrow. “Give your report and get out.”

Qrow stared back, his eyes flat. “No,” he said shortly, “I don’t think I will.”

“Qrow,” James growled. “Don’t think I won’t-”

“Won’t what? Tattle to Ozpin? Newsflash,  _ Jimmy,  _ I may go on missions for Oz, and I might send him reports, but I am not his servant. Complain to him all you want, it’s not going to bother me.”

James just glared harder. “Fine,” he said. “Then come back tomorrow. You don’t need to be here tonight.”

Qrow shook his head. “How ‘bout no?” You were fine with me being here, up until you got yourself a drink. Something’s going on, and I’m not leaving till I find out what.”

“It’s none of your business!” James roared, finally losing patience. “Now get out! Before I throw you out!”

Qrow clenched his fists before nodding once. He spun on his heel and strode out, slamming the door shut behind him. 

James stood in the kitchen until the echoes died out, and then slid down the cabinets to the floor. He pulled his legs up to his chest, buried his face into his knees, and wept.

* * *

“Hey, Ice Queen, where’s Ironwood?”

Winter looked up at Qrow, her gaze cold. “The  **General** has the day off. You can leave any messages with me, or you can wait until tomorrow.” She collected the papers on her desk and gave Qrow an unimpressed look when he didn’t move. “I’m rather busy here, Qrow. You’re in my way.”

Qrow stepped out of Winter’s path and followed her down the hallway. “Since when does ‘Ol Ironwood take the day off?”

“He takes days off as his schedule permits, not that it’s any of your business.” Winter’s tone was calm, collected, but Qrow saw the way her hands twitched against the stack of papers. 

“Uh huh, and I’ll bet that doesn’t happen often.”

Winter pushed open one of the doors and stopped, turning to look at Qrow. “Why are you so curious to know?”

“Cause your precious general told me to meet him today and he’s not here,” Qrow snapped. “My schedule is just as busy as his; I don’t have time to play games.”

If he hadn’t been paying attention, if he hadn’t been looking for a sign, Qrow wouldn’t have caught Winter’s flinch.

“General Ironwood doesn’t play games,” she told him, but her voice was suddenly tight, almost strained. “If he not here, then it’s because something equally important, if not more so, came up. You’ll just have to wait.” She walked into the room and closed the door, leaving Qrow behind. 

* * *

He was cold and he hurt and his nose was stuffed up and he couldn’t breathe right and he just wanted it to end. 

The cabinets were hard against his back, the handles digging into his spine but he didn’t bother to move. The pain, small though it might be, grounded him. He had moved once, but that was only so he could find the throw blanket and wrap it around himself before he went back to huddling in the kitchen again. He was supposed to be better than this, stronger than this, except he wasn’t, he never would be. All he could do was hide it and hope nobody ever saw it. 

He sniffed, trying to clear his nose. It had hurt, telling Winter he would be out today. She might not know what was going on, but she was perceptive. She was also loyal, and wouldn’t tell the others that she suspected something was wrong with their general. Winter knew, in ways that the others didn’t, that life wasn’t always kind. Life was about being hurt, about  _ dealing  _ the hurt, and sometimes you needed to surround yourself with that knowledge. It either broke you or made you stronger. James didn’t know where he was at in the process, but Winter had emerged stronger than before, an iron core at her center that James wished right now that he had. 

He jerked when somebody started banging on his door, but didn’t move. He didn’t want to talk to anybody right now. Honestly, he didn’t think he could talk to anyone. He had fallen asleep while sitting in the kitchen and the nightmares had returned, over and over again. Everything hurt and he just wanted to be left alone. 

“Ironwood! Open the damn door!”

James shrunk deeper into himself. He couldn’t...not with Qrow. Anybody but Qrow.

The noise continued on for some time until he heard Qrow kick the door and walk away. James rested his head against his arms, relieved that Qrow was finally gone, but desperately hoping that he would come back. It made no sense, wanting him to be there but not, but James was tired of being alone. It might have been safer, but it made everything worse.

* * *

Hours passed. James had had to move, his flesh and bones arm and leg cramping from being in the same position for too long. He was dizzy from not eating, his stomach threatening revolt even though he hadn’t eaten anything the entire day. He stumbled over to one of the cabinets and pulled out a can of broth. It wasn’t the most filling of foods, but it’d be better than nothing. 

He was halfway through the broth, thankfully able to keep it down, when there was a pecking noise outside his window. He glanced up and frowned at the bird sitting there. It fluttered its wings and uttered a soft caw sound and pecked at the glass. 

“Ozpin,” Ironwood said softly. He had often received communications from Ozpin with birds just like this one. He pushed himself away from the table and went over to the window, opening the window slowly, so as not to alarm the bird. 

It waited until there was enough space and then flew inside. James closed the window, it was cold outside, and turned around. 

Qrow stood there, arms crossed over his chest as he stared at James dispassionately. 

“No,” James gasped. He struggled to keep himself upright. “What is this?”

“You never questioned why Ozpin used crows?” Qrow asked, one eyebrow raised. “They’re smart birds, but even Ozpin would have a hard time training them.” He didn’t move, just watched James. “I can shapeshift. It’s not something I like to tell a lot of people. But...you left me no choice.”

“James,” Qrow said softly. When James just shook his head and stared at the floor, he sighed. “James, just listen to me. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m not here to get you in trouble. Hell, I’m not even here to yell at you.” He took a step closer and James flinched. Qrow stopped, and the silence in the kitchen was deafening. “James, I’m here as a friend, ok? Let me help you.”

James was shaking. It was small, but he could feel the way his muscles were threatening to turn his shakes into full body tremors. “I...I don’t need help,” he said lamely. 

“That’s not true and you know it,” Qrow told him sternly. “Something’s wrong. I don’t know what happened, I don’t know what’s done this to you, but I can guess.” He started walking closer, ignoring James’ shaking. “Look, I know we’re not close. You’re the leader of Atlas and I’m a teacher at Signal. You lead an army, I go on solo missions that nobody ever knows about.” 

James closed his eyes, unable to look at Qrow’s face, at the emotion there that James couldn’t identify. 

“Here’s the big difference:  you never learned how to depend on others. I had a family, I had friends. And you?I can think of barely a handful of people who are close to General Ironwood.”

There was a hand on his shoulder and James gasped, feeling his body tense. “That’s the problem. How many times do you hide like this? Unable to go to somebody for a comforting word? A simple hug?”

James shuddered, and tried to keep the tears filling his eyes from falling. “Stop it, Qrow,” he whispered. “That’s not true.”

“Sure it isn’t,” Qrow said roughly. “You’re so surrounding by friends that  _ of course _ you’re not falling to pieces in front of me. I must be imagining things.”

James opened his eyes, blinking hard to clear them. “It’s not that simple, Qrow.”

“It is,” Qrow insisted, “you just don’t know how.” And then he was hugging James, his arms wrapped tightly around his chest, holding him close. 

And Qrow, Qrow was  _ warm  _ and James could feel his heat burning through him, chasing away the aches and pains that had been plaguing him all day. James didn’t move, afraid this was a trick, but when Qrow did nothing more than tug him closer, James gave in. His metal arm rested gingerly against Qrow’s waist, and when he hummed encouragingly, he brought his flesh arm up to curl around Qrow’s shoulder.

“That’s it,” Qrow murmured, and James felt something in him break, and then he was crying, great wracking sobs that made Qrow hold him tighter. James’ knees went out and Qrow huffed out a surprised noise before he was moving, slipping out of his arms to support his side. “Come on,” he said quietly, “let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.”

* * *

They ended up in James’ bed, tucked securely under blankets and surrounded with pillows. Qrow had curled around him, stroking his back, while James buried his face against Qrow’s chest. He was quieter now, the tears and hurt still there, but no longer the desperate gasps for air that they had been before. His fist was clenched around Qrow’s shirt, but Qrow didn’t seem to mind, just pulled James closer and hummed softly.

“Why?” James finally managed to rasp out. 

“Hmm?” Qrow’s hand paused on his back, and when James whined, he resumed tracing nonsensical shapes across his skin. “Why not? I’ve been through some rough patches.”  _ It’s why I drink _ was left unsaid. “It took me some time to get through them, I’m still getting through them, and I had help.” He shrugged. “It’s hard to stay sad when you’ve got two kids crawling all over you, asking you to make them fly. Anyways, this stuff? What I’ve gone through, what you’re going through, just because we can do it alone doesn’t mean we should, or that we have to.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “The world sees us, hunters and huntresses, as invincible. If we get hurt they expect us to get right back up again. They don’t seem to realize that life’s not that simple. Life’s hard and it can be ugly and painful and yet, we still need to keep going.” He shrugged again. “But it’s like I said, we don’t need to do this alone.”

They were silent then, James’ muffled sobs and Qrow’s soft humming the only sound in the room. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I made myself sad but the ending leaves me in a happy/hopeful spot. It's also open ended enough, that I feel ok with coming back and writing more about these two.
> 
> I also realize that I have a love of writing strong characters being broken and not knowing how to handle it (*looks at my Tony and Steve fics*)
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [here](http://roguewolfprints.tumblr.com)


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